


Lean On Me

by asingerofsongs, MayGlenn



Series: Stars and Skies [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Finn, Bromance to Romance, Cinnamon Roll Finn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gender-Neutral BB-8, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren Gives Everyone Nightmares, M/M, Minor Injuries, Nightmares, Pansexual Poe Dameron, Physical Therapy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Poe Dameron, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Swimming, The First Order is Awful, eventually, gratuitous use of the word buddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6115551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asingerofsongs/pseuds/asingerofsongs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayGlenn/pseuds/MayGlenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, if you don't want me here that's cool, but if I'm going to have my face in your armpit you might as well lean on me," Poe said, gripping Finn a bit more aggressively this time. "We're just standing, right? Me and your left leg, I guess."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I was ready a week ago," Finn said impatiently to the otherwise innocent question “Are you ready?”  Then he gave Poe and the doctor a nod. "Ready," he told them, and then counted to three.

His legs didn't exactly communicate effectively with his brain. His right leg took his weight, right up to the point where he was mostly upright, and then his knee shook and buckled, and his left leg, which was only bearing some of his weight, was not strong enough to hold his weight for very long.  He made a startled noise and lost his grip on Poe's shoulder, landing a little hard back on the bed and wincing as it sent shooting pain up his back.

"Hey whoa whoa wait," Poe said, but he could do nothing but guide Finn back to the bed and wince in sympathy, "So, if you _don't_ want me here that's cool, but if I'm going to have my face in your armpit you might as well lean on me."

"Perhaps a bit slower this time. Let Dameron take some of your weight until you can get both legs under you," the doctor suggested when he'd stopped wincing. He grinned a little sheepishly and nodded."Does it hurt anywhere?" Dr. Kalonia asked.

"No, but my knee isn't exactly following orders," Finn answered. Maybe his back hurt a little, but not enough to require mentioning. "Try again? Maybe you should lead, this time," he told Poe. If he was going to have to be more-or-less pulled to his feet, that arrangement would make more sense.  

Poe nodded, gripping him a bit more aggressively this time. "We're just standing, right? Me and your left leg, I guess."

"Just standing," Dr. Kalonia verified.  "Okay, hold onto me," Poe said, trying to ignore how good Finn smelled this close up. "I'm going to lift you up entirely, take all your weight, and you just plant your feet down and stand when you're ready, okay?" he said, and at Finn's nod, he lifted, trying to just hook his arms under Finn's arms to put no pressure on his back. Finn was dense, but Poe held him up. "Okay? How's that?" he asked.

"Got it," Finn said, immediately shifting some of his weight to his own two feet, so Poe wasn't the only thing holding him up.  His right knee wobbled again, and he scowled down at it, waiting until it stopped shaking to continue.

He managed to reach the point where he was half leaning on Poe and half standing on his own by the time signals apparently got crossed again and his left knee, this time, buckled alarmingly and startled a frustrated curse out of him.  He managed not to fall, though it was probably because he was already leaning so heavily on Poe.  Cursing internally the whole time, he regained his footing and worked quickly back to holding a little less than half his weight.  Then stayed there, feeling somewhat precariously balanced and still fairly annoyed that he couldn't even stand up alone.  He looked at Dr. Kalonia for input, unsure what he was supposed to do.

"That's good," Dr. Kalonia said. "Just practice standing for today, with Commander Dameron's help, or you call MT-7. Don't wear yourself out, but you should practice more. I'll schedule some PT time in the pool for you tomorrow."

Poe was getting a bit warm, and it probably wasn't just at the effort of holding Finn's weight, though he could argue that it was. Finn just felt so close like this, and Poe couldn't deny that he got a swell of satisfaction at being _needed_ by the younger man, even if it was because of something he also wanted him to heal from. "You want to sit down for a second, or you okay?" he asked, careful not to let his own voice shake with the effort. He could do this all day.

 "I'm okay. I'm great. I'm standing up," Finn said, which was all true, annoyed or not. And even if it was only with help, he'd rather lean on Poe than on anyone else he could think of. But actually, "Except I think my legs are starting to ignore me again," he added, feeling a tell-tale shaky sort of feeling in both knees.

Poe smiled. "Hey, that's okay," he said, helping Finn to sit back down. "We can try again in a bit." He looked up. "I can take him out in a hoverchair, can't I? Just for a change of scenery. Maybe sit on the grass—or to the mess hall?"

Dr. Kalonia raised one eyebrow slightly, almost suggestively, but Poe shook his head minutely while Finn was busy getting comfortable on the bed. But the doctor smiled and nodded. "Of course. Nothing strenuous," she said, her smile growing knowing, and Poe flushed. Was he being _that_ obvious? Also, he was shocked. He barely knew the guy, and Finn was _injured_. What kind of cad did she take him for (not that either of these had necessarily been insurmountable in Poe’s past, but _still_ )?

He turned quickly to Finn, panicking slightly, but covering it up with a brave face. "Want to go for a ride? I need to work on my X-Wing if you just want a change of scenery."

There was something going on in that quick exchange between the doctor and Poe that Finn didn't quite catch, but by the time Poe turned to him, he'd missed it. Finn raised his eyebrows at him and then nodded emphatically.

"Yes. Absolutely. Let's go see your X-Wing," he said, deciding not to ask what had been going on over the top of his head.

Poe beamed. "Great! I'll go check out a chair," he said, skipping off. Sure, out on the flight deck the rest of the pilots would be able to make fun of him if he was being that obvious, but he'd get to show Finn so much! Black One, and all the other ships and droids and he’d get to meet new people and see how normal, non-First-Order militaries (okay, so the Resistance wasn’t exactly normal, either) functioned. He returned quickly with the repulsorlift-powered chair, one that Finn could direct if he wanted, but one Poe could push along too. He found he really liked taking care of Finn, and he hoped that wasn’t weird.

Finn couldn't remember if he'd ever really seen a hover chair before—at least, not for any extended amount of time. This one was a bit used around the edges, probably because the base wasn't exactly a hotspot for the best new technology, but he was beyond grateful to see it. He let Poe help him into it and gave directing it himself a go, almost immediately nearly running BB-8 over when it was more responsive than he expected. "It's a good thing this isn't flying," he remarked, turning it in a circle each direction and then backing it up, slowly first, and then a little quicker. In addition to the directional pads near his hands, it seemed to respond to shifting body weight, which would come in handy when the ban against all things strenuous or even remotely exciting was lifted. For now, he shifted forward slightly and brushed his fingers over the directional pad under his right hand, grinning as the chair glided only a little faster than he'd really intended. At least he didn't hit BB-8 this time.

"Hey he's a natural!" Poe chuckled, though BB-8 whistled in protest. "We should try to get you up in a ship some time, Finn. Come on, let's go meet the team." Poe tucked a blanket around Finn's lap. "Want to follow, or want me to drive?"

"Follow," Finn said, mostly so he could accidentally lose the blanket. He waited for Poe to get some distance ahead, just in case he got too enthusiastic—it would probably be bad if the best pilot in the resistance got sidelined by an out-of-control hoverchair driven by a former stormtrooper—and untucked the blanket, tossing it off to the side of the hall where it wouldn't get in the way of people walking.

When Poe looked back to make sure Finn was following, he realized he'd dropped the blanket. "Finn! You'll get cold," he scolded, beginning to shrug off his jacket, but when Finn waved him off he swept in behind him to lay a hand on the chair.

"I won't get cold—and anyway, if I do, it'll be my own fault, and I'll have learned a lesson," Finn said, a little put-out at what he felt was really too much concern.

"Okay, okay. Med Bay is here on the edge so if you get lost its easy to find. Here's the barracks, my quarters are down here to the right..."

Then Poe was giving him directions, and Finn had to pay attention or he was going to get turned around. "You each have your own quarters?" he asked in surprise, and then added, "We always shared—with one other, at least. Sometimes with up to three, if they needed the space."

"Weeeell," Poe said, looking bashful. "I have my own quarters, as Commander. But they're not much. The cadets bunk two to a room, so it's not bad. The real perk is I have my own refresher." Well, and his own bed, his own _real_ bed, but it might be too forward to mention that? Poe could just imagine himself: ‘Oh, yeah, you should try it out. Maybe we could try it out together sometime wink wink.’ He coughed. "And this way is the main hangar..."

Finn wondered, briefly, where he would sleep if he stayed, since he wasn't part of one of the squadrons. Surely other people slept in other quarters, but they all had jobs. He was...nothing in particular, really. Maybe he could learn to fly, or help with strategy, since he had first-hand knowledge of how the stormtrooper squadrons worked, and then he wouldn't just be a drain on their resources.

The main hangar was...it was actually kind of beautiful.  There were machines everywhere, droids going here and there about their business, pilots working on their X-Wings in ones or twos, or sometimes teams.  He recognized some of them by sight, but was content to remain fairly unnoticed as he trailed next to Poe. It was weird, though, seeing everything from about half the height he was accustomed to. He sat up straighter, but while it made him feel at least a little self-conscious, it didn't make the fact that he was injured disappear. "I could learn how your X-Wing works," he suggested to Poe. He'd really have liked to help, but he had a feeling that counted as "too strenuous" and would be strictly forbidden, for the time being.

"Sure," Poe said brightly. "I'll talk you through what I'm doing, how about that? Hey, ease up a little, would ya?" he said, pressing him back against the chair. "You look like you're trying to make just sitting there 'too strenuous.' It's okay, you're fine." He squeezed Finn's shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile.

Finn nodded, reluctantly letting Poe push him back so he wasn't leaning forward quite so far. It _was_ easier on his back, he supposed. He maneuvered the hoverchair over to the black X-Wing, marveling all over again at the elegant shape of it from up close. He reached up and touched the black matte paint on the underside of it before turning back to Poe. "Is something broken, or are you doing maintenance?" he asked, since nothing looked particularly broken to his eye.

"Maintenance," Poe said, "but I haven't done anything since we ran against _Starkiller_. I mean, flight crew has been at her, but I need to..." He trailed off, watching Finn look at her in awe, and touch her (without his permission, but reverently, so he would let it slide). He leaned down so he was on Finn's level, viewing her from a new angle. "I call her Black One," he said, moving Finn a little closer so he could explore freely.

"She's much prettier than any TIE," Finn said, grinning crookedly as he found himself sitting next to the landing gear at the nose. He leaned forward to see around it. "How fast does she go?" he asked, considering the fine, pointed silhouette and, over his other shoulder, the twin engines that would become four half-engines when the wings were in attack formation. He knew these could out-run a TIE-Fighter, but he'd seen plenty of them brought down by them, as well, so they couldn't be that unevenly matched.

"Oh, she can make .5 past light speed, don't worry. And I've made other...modifications. I'll show you how fast she can go, sometime." Poe considered, taking a rag from his hip pocket and circling around her, wiping grime and oil away casually, though he was taking inventory of what he needed to look at and do.

Finn whistled appreciatively at the X-Wing's speed. Then again, it was built for it, he supposed.  Rey would know more than he did about the technicalities, but with that pointed nose and the smooth plating all along the whole ship, it was built to be fast and agile.

Poe was about to say something about that TIE fighter when Jessika Pava strode across the deck toward them.

"Hey, our fearless leader is back!" she said. "Are you going to introduce me?"

Poe grinned, embracing the smaller pilot manfully. "Jess! Jess, meet Finn, the savior of the Resistance! Finn, this is Lieutenant Jessika Pava." 

Jessika stuck out a hand at Finn. "You're the one who's the reason I have extra duty?"

"Hey now, we made a deal!" Poe protested, nudging her elbow roughly.  Finn nearly choked on air, both at Poe's introduction and at Jessika's reaction, unable to tell if she was joking or not. "I think so, yeah.  Sorry," he said with a slight smile as he shook her hand, and when she laughed, decided she must have been joking. "You're the Jess who likes the chocolate off Naboo, right?" he asked and, at her confused look, "Poe was telling me about chocolate—I had never had it."

"I may have said we could convince you to share, but I already owe you my left nut, so..."

Jessika laughed. "What use would I have for your left nut?" she teased Poe. "But for the savior of the Resistance, I'm sure I can spare a bar of chocolate. It's lighter and sweeter than the stuff Poe likes. Anyway, good to meet you, Finn. I'm off to do _Poe's_ patrol while he's looking after you." She winked, ruffled her commander's hair, and strode off to her X-Wing.

"So…that's Jess," Poe said with a grin, not bothering to fix his hair, and crouched next to Finn again so they were seeing the world from the same angle.

"She's..." Finn started, unable to find the right word, "She's really nice," he said, even though he was a little surprised at the apparent lack of formality. He wasn't sure why, though, once he thought about it—whenever he'd seen Poe with other people around the base, he listened as much as he talked and seemed to converse as much as he delivered orders—which came across as much less demanding than, say, any of Phasma's had ever sounded.

"She is nice, and she likes you—she’s hard to impress, so good job." Poe winked at him and patted his shoulder. "Okay, we'll watch her do pre-flight takeoff. See, she's walking around, checking everything on the plane, starting with the landing gear, then the nose, the wings, the engine in the back. Once inside, she runs a pre-flight systems check. There's a clipboard and everything," he said, holding up his own to demonstrate. "I'll show you everything once you're well enough to get in the cockpit. But for now—" he flipped a few pages and handed it back to Finn. "We're going over the maintenance check."

"How long does it take to do all of this?" Finn asked, flipping through the pages before returning to the one Poe had kept on top. "What are the engines on the wings for, if the one in back is the main propulsion engine?" he asked curiously as he read through the maintenance check.

"Okay, so I have got it down to seven minutes if I'm quick and focused. They say you should take ten, most times we take closer to fifteen. I mean, no one wants to explode mid-atmo because of a stupid mistake, right? No matter how much of a hurry you’re in." Poe ducked around the wings, resting on them and staring a bit longingly at Finn. "The propulsions here are for maneuverability. I think that TIE may have more speed in an all-out race, but _nothing_ beats an X-Wing's maneuverability!" he said proudly.

"Green Leader says screw you, Dameron!" came a cry from the other side of the hangar. “Don’t lie to the kid!”

"Oh, I’m sorry, that must be why all Squadron Commanders are from the A-wing ranks! Oh, wait, except they’re not!" Poe replied, to a chorus of " _Oooohhhhs_!" and “Sick burns!”

"As take Xs, any time, any place, you mynock-jockey!"

"Yeah, say that again, you A-hole!" Poe replied, chuckling, and the hanger erupted in laughter. "That was...a joke. Sorry, I wasn't calling him an asshole it's...those ones are called A-wings..." He shook his head, embarrassed at his own pun. "Stevons and I always give each other shit, but he's a great guy."

"That's—uh—what’s an A-Wing do?" Finn asked, not sure how to react to the general atmosphere. He distracted himself by watching Poe as he wandered around his X-Wing, tapping this and that and still cleaning off smudges that Finn couldn't even see. This was Poe outside the confines of medical, clearly comfortable and relaxed and happy. Finn hadn't seen him laugh this much since he'd awoken, and he decided wistfully that he'd like to learn how to be amusing, if only to make Poe laugh.

 "Oh, A-Wings are the zippy ones. My mom flew one. It was the first starship I ever piloted, actually," Poe said. "Hey, you're supposed to be reading me that chart," he stated. "And checking them off. There should be a pencil on the top. I've done the engine and props, exhaust ports, and..." he tapped the fuel system, "Fuel. I always skip one or two around here though." Even he didn't have the list memorized. He grinned expectantly at Finn, making sure he didn't look tired or in pain. "You warm enough?"

Finn jumped when he realized Poe was talking to him while he stared into space (space that had been occupied by Poe). He'd picked up the pencil and started checking things off before he was really aware of it. "Oh, uh—navigation and guidance needs to be checked," he told him, "And seals? Does that mean the window seals?" He looked up and found Poe was looking at him. He offered him a smile in return and nodded, "For now I am."

"Okay, you let me know," Poe told him sternly, and worked backwards on this list. "Yup, cockpit seals. We just spot check these, the computer actually checks that the seal holds air when we get in. Nav and guidance we check inside the cockpit BUT we do a spotcheck from here." Poe jumped up the ladder and peered inside. "It says we're home, so the dials are doing their thing. We check 'em off. Good! What's next?"

They carried on checking over the X-Wing until they'd reached the end of the list, and then Poe showed him how to fix the few things that hadn't quite checked out. By the time they were done, Finn was clearly tired, so they went back to medical and he fell asleep five minutes into a documentary that they tried to watch.

…

Finn woke up sore the next day, so much so that he didn't especially want to move and was a little bit cranky with the doctor when she came to check on him. He avoided being cranky with Poe, but only narrowly (and only because he showed up in nothing but shorts and boots and that was confusing, though Finn didn’t ask), and by not speaking until it was time to go to physiotherapy (a concept he wasn't entirely sure he understood).  He used the hoverchair again, but let Poe push it, tired enough from a poor night's sleep and not letting on that he was hurting to know he'd only steer himself into a wall.

He wasn't sure what to expect from PT, but he was still surprised to find that he was, in fact, expected to actually get _in_ the water. He covered his surprise with some more silence as one of the therapists helped him remove his shirt so he'd at least have that, dry, to put on when they were done.

"Oh, _Finn_ ," Poe couldn't help but say as he caught sight of the scar. Come to think of it, he'd never even seen the wound—and he wasn't sure he had ever seen a lightsaber wound before. "Not sure whether I want to congratulate you on the sexy scar or wrap you up in my arms and make sure nothing bad ever happens to my precious cinnamon roll ever again," he said with a smile he couldn't but make sad. He kicked off his boots before getting into the water with Finn and the physical therapist. "That bad, huh?" Finn asked, but didn't even try to see the scar because it would require twisting in a way his body wouldn't thank him for. Anyway, he could feel it when the water touched it, as if the skin was slightly more sensitive there than anywhere else. It was unnerving, so he stopped thinking about it and nodded to the physiotherapist.

"Sall, how you doing today?" Poe asked the Bothan.

"Glad you're not my patient, Dameron," she said wearily, and Poe ignored her and grinned at Finn.

"Water's nice and warm," he commented. "How's that feel, Finn?"

"The water's... nice?" he said, sounding doubtful even to himself as he eyed the water like it might jump up and drown him.  The water was, as Poe said, nice and warm, and since it made him more buoyant, he was able to stand up without really leaning on Poe, although he did keep a hand on his friend's shoulder.  Poe was one to talk about scars—he had a collection of his own scars, it seemed, including one down the length of one arm, though from what, Finn couldn't tell. There were also black marks on his arms and shoulders that might have been tattoos, though Finn couldn’t get a very good look, and anyway he was supposed to be focusing on himself he supposed. 

"Yeah. Swimming’s great," Poe explained, keeping both hands on Finn as they practiced standing, shifting from one foot to the other. "I like it. Closest I can get to feeling like I'm flying when I'm on the ground." He grinned helpfully. "How's that feel? Doesn't hurt to stand? I'm not letting you go, though, don't get any ideas." Finn's skin was warm and smooth, broken by a few scars, mainly by the one along his back, thick and bumpy and long and still healing.

Finn couldn't imagine actually enjoying being in the water, but he supposed that came of not having spent any time in it. "It makes my back itch," he said, wrinkling up his nose but adding, hurriedly, "Doesn't hurt, though, no." He looked at the therapist, who was watching them with a narrow-eyed look. "What do I do?" he asked her, and she raised both eyebrows. "I—what?" he asked her, and she laughed. 

"Oh, I'm just not used to cooperation. Please tell me you intend to continue in this manner," she said, treading around them in a circle and pausing behind them to look at his back. "I was told what had happened to you, but I admit, I've never seen an injury quite like yours," she told him once she'd returned to treading in front of him. "But human bodies are human bodies—you’re all very alike, so you needn't worry. You must tell me if anything causes you undue pain, or if that itching becomes worse." The therapist looked over at Poe, and added, "And you will keep him honest, because all of you are alike and think that simply pretending the pain is bearable will make it so."

"Lay off, Sall, he's not a Flyboy—yet—so he'll behave," Poe said, waiting as she gave instructions for Finn to make various movements with his legs. Meanwhile, this close, Poe got a good view of Finn's physique, and, well, there was something to be said for stormtrooper training if it produced bodies like this. Finn's muscles were perfect, and while he looked a bit thin from all this time in bed, Poe counted a definite six-pack and guessed there was more under the band of his hospital-issue shorts. His arms and broad shoulders made Poe want to take off the already few clothes he was wearing and his nipples were, well, perfect. Poe thought that he really shouldn't be here, this close to him, with these wicked thoughts. It felt dishonest. On the other hand, Finn had a body that _ought_ to be appreciated!

"So if you'll move around to support him from behind Dameron," Sall said, sounding like she had said this once before already.

"Behind? Oh, I thought you were talking about _my_ behind again, you flirt," he said with a wink and a chuckle as he slid behind Finn and grabbed him around the middle. "Let me know if this hurts," he said softly.

"Just don't touch my back and it'll be fine," Finn answered, although that would probably be impractical, given that Poe had to help him remain standing. "The scar, I mean. If possible," he added. That sounded slightly less on-edge, at least. He had very little idea of where this particular exercise was going, but he was surprised to find that he didn't feel any particular impulse to do anything except be still and let Poe hold him up.  The warm water was making him sleepy, and with his back guarded (even unnecessarily), he felt much more relaxed than he had.

Finn wasn't entirely sure he should even be enjoying this situation a little bit, much less to this extent.

"Finn?" Sall said, as if she'd said it several times, and he blinked, realizing he'd come very close to dozing off. "Sorry. I didn't...sleep last night, really," he said. No, he definitely shouldn't be enjoying this situation, not if it meant he was going to fall asleep and drown (though the mental voice that enjoyed this situation also reminded him that Poe, and probably also Sall, were absolutely not going to let him drown).

"In that case, perhaps we should finish with stretching, instead of wearing you out further.  Dameron, you stay there in case he loses his balance or falls asleep, but give him enough space to move," Sall said, and started in on a series of stretches that mostly involved twisting.

"Got it," Poe said, memorizing the movements so he could help Finn with them. His arms were sore from holding Finn out at arms' length so as not to touch the scar, and actually, it made him sick to look at (not because of how it looked, but because it meant pain for his friend). When Sall had gone, he slid back around to Finn's front. "You doin' okay, buddy? You didn't tell me you slept bad." Poe had even woken himself up once, dreaming about his blaster fire frozen in space by Kylo Ren—but he hadn't noticed Finn's uneasy rest. He pressed one hand to his cheek, as if to check his temperature, or else just to give comfort. "We don't have to even stretch if you don't want to," he said, a horrible enabler.

"My back hurt. Hurts," Finn admitted, allowing himself to take the briefest comfort from Poe's hand on his face. "Is floating difficult?" he asked, thinking that this might help his back—it was probably the only possible way to keep anything from pressing on it without being upright, which sounded wonderful at the moment.

"Oh! Um, it does take some movement you're maybe not allowed to do, but if you want to lie back I'll hold you up. Probably feel good," he said, beginning to lower him into the water.

“If you dunk me, I'll get BB-8 to zap you," Finn said lazily. He panicked briefly as his feet lost purchase on the bottom of the pool, but Poe kept his shoulders up and the water didn't even touch his face.

"Hey, I'd never dunk the man who saved my life. You'd flail and hurt yourself and then I'd be stuck doing PT myself because General Organa would tan my hide," Poe explained, holding Finn's shoulders and head out of the water. "Don't move now. Let me know when you want up."

"What happened to your arm?" Finn asked, referring to the scar.

He glanced at his left arm. "Oh, the big one is scorching. Inside of a cockpit caught fire—not in Black One, but in a Naboo Starfighter of all things! We had one to try out and, just my luck, _I'm_ up in it when it reacts badly to the fuel we gave it. I, ah, had to depressurize the cabin and perform an emergency landing—eh, a crash, really—a mile or so from base. By the time they got to me the arm was pretty hurt, so bacta couldn't fix all of it. They occasionally offer plastic surgery, but I don't think it's that bad, do you?" He was aware that his talking (or the water, or a combination) seemed to have a soporific effect on the ex-stormtrooper.

"No, just looks like it hurt," Finn told the pilot. He listened to him talk for a bit and then, in a quiet pause where Poe apparently had to eventually take a breath, smiled fondly without thinking and then asked, from earlier, "What's plastic surgery?"

“Oh, um, surgery to cover up wounds and things, make your skin look like nothing ever happened. Rich people who don't like their noses will get plastic surgery to be more attractive, I guess, and crime lords will get plastic surgery to change their whole appearance if they need to disappear." He laughed. "Or that's the rumor."

Finn's eyes had slipped shut, but he opened them to judge if Poe was kidding around. Surgery? That was unusual enough, but not unheard of if the situation called for it, but for...for scars? To change one's face? "You're joking," he stated, watching Poe's face for some indication of how serious he might or might not be, for all the good that would do him.

Poe's eyebrows waggled. "Nope. It's true. I mean, I'm talking filthy rich Imperial scum—er—Imperials. I guess filthy rich New Republicans, too." He shrugged. "Funny, huh?” Poe liked how relaxed Finn looked in his arms, in the water, and he liked answering things for Finn, so he kept going, telling stories (some of them true) about other scars he had. But eventually—

 “Hey, I hate to break up the party, but you're getting kind of heavy, and you really should do at least _one_ cycle of stretches? Do you think you could, for me, bud?" He helped Finn straighten up in the water, helping him get his feet on the floor of the pool.

The stretches were mainly to force his spine to bend—not too much—and to help the connections between repaired nerves re-establish faster, and correctly. Some of them were uncomfortable, especially the first time he did them, but Poe and Sall both assured him they would help, if he'd give them time.

After a week of daily physio, he had to admit (when asked directly) that the stretches _were_ helping, and that he found moving easier, both in and out of the pool. When he could stand up on his own without his knees going shaky, the physiotherapist suggested he start trying to take actual steps—first leaning on Poe in the swimming pool, and then the same way on dry land, but after a couple of days of that, he was confident enough to try crossing the room without help. Poe stood nearby to spot him in case he took a bad step, but he'd learned that if he went slowly enough, he was less likely to have problems with signals getting crossed.

It was frustrating, certainly, but he was glad he could walk at all—a stormtrooper would have been recycled for less, so on especially frustrating days he remembered at least to be glad that he was still alive and breathing.

The first day he tried walking with no help, Poe hovered, and Finn just offered him a crooked grin as he shifted weight from one leg to the other. "You get much closer and I'm going to trip over you," he joked. Once he proved he could at least shuffle a few feet, he convinced Poe to go across the room—still within catching distance, really—and succeeded in taking a few slow, slightly uncoordinated steps to meet his friend.  It was ridiculous what a victory this was, but he couldn't stop himself grinning.

"Finn!" Poe encouraged, all but clapping his hands as Finn made the few steps across the room to him. "Finn, you're fantastic!" He said, catching him and helping him walk back to the bed. "Here, let me see that again, you're doing so great!" he said, waiting on the actual other side of the room, so Finn had to take at least ten steps to get to him. "Easy, now, take it slow. I'll be here." Finn looked so cute and flushed and happy and vibrant—Poe had nearly punched through a wall when Finn told him what the First Order did with stormtroopers who were this badly injured—but Finn was here and he was all right!

Finn laughed and shook his head, amused at Poe's exuberance. "Yeah yeah, I'm slow now, but I'll be outrunning BB-8 before long. Right, bud?" He asked the little droid, who bumped very gently against his ankle with a chirp. "Alright, alright, you're as impatient as your pilot," he joked, picking a slow but consistent pace and walking to Poe without losing his balance, although he did steady himself on Poe when he reached him. He had an idea, then, and grinned a little mischievously. "Well, hi. Come here often?" he joked, and then laughed. He'd heard the line delivered between countless of the pilots and it always seemed to be greeted with an amused laugh, although he wasn't sure what it meant.

Poe was so pleased at Finn's progress that he couldn't help but kiss his cheek—quick and platonic, though if he'd thought about it he maybe wouldn't have done it—and laughed and blushed at the question. "Depends who's buying, soldier," he gave the customary reply, and hugged Finn tightly, no longer very concerned about his back. "Man, you look great! Want to go for a walk around the base or something? You can take my arm or use that cane they gave you. This calls for a celebration. Let me buy you dinner? Even though it's free. Let me _get_ you dinner?" He beamed, holding Finn out at arm's length like he couldn't get enough of a look at him.

"Sure," Finn said, just glad to be upright and able to leave the room without a hoverchair. "Does this mean I can stop living in medical?" He asked excitedly as they walked from the room. He used his cane for now, but before too long had switched to holding on to Poe's arm.

"Yeah, once Dr. K clears you," Poe said, his grin broad and inviting. "Hey, we could even set up a cot in my room for you, if that's not weird—at least until we get you an actual bunkmate? I mean, frankly you'd be more comfortable here, probably..."

Finn looked around to see if the doctor happened to be hanging around. "We could ask her before we go," he suggested nonchalantly. "I could put up with a cot if it means not living here... Not that I'm not grateful—" he almost mentioned the fact he was grateful to be alive at all, but Poe had looked kind of violent (though not at him, more so on his behalf) when he'd mentioned it last time so he refrained, "—and anyway, what's wrong with cots?"

"Uhh, you're not allowed to take that back when you see my bed," Poe replied with a wink, steering Finn, slowly but surely, to the mess, by way of his quarters in case Finn wanted to rest. He keyed in the code and let Finn go in first. "See, it's not much, but it's home. And we could put a cot for you just here."

Finn was amazed that there was literally an actual bed in Poe's room—and not a tiny one with a thin mattress, but a real and actual bed at least twice the size of any Finn had ever seen. "What do you even use all that space _for_?" he asked, and then looked around the room in equal astonishment. It was big enough for not only the bed, but a few things that could only be there for sentiment or decoration, and it wouldn't be completely cramped even if a cot were set up. It felt... like a home, actually. Lived-in, and comfortable, and a place that wasn't just meant to be an out-of-the-way place to sleep. "Is that a plant?" He asked in astonishment, eyeing something green in one of the corners. Rey would absolutely not believe this, even if he could reach her to tell her about it.

"It's a kind of philodendron, I think, from home," Poe said with a smile, "and yeah, it's real. The service droids water it for me when I'm away on missions. Keeps it from smelling like my sweaty flight suit in here. As for the size of the bed...it's for this!" Without warning he left Finn standing by the plant and jumped, spread-eagle, into his bed with a sigh, splaying his limbs. He'd missed it. "Come on, try it out." (Okay, maybe he had some ulterior motives suggesting themselves, but he had them 100% under control. After all, he hadn’t given the _actual_ reason he had a big bed, which was so he could share it with people. He had some class.)

Finn shook his head fondly again, something he seemed to be doing an awful lot around Poe, as he sprawled on the bed. He walked over and sat on it, but in deference to his back (or to the voice that told him he was too fond of his friend, it was a weakness that could be exploited and hurt both of them) didn't sprawl like Poe was doing. "How do you ever wake up? It must be like... Like sleeping on a cloud, or something. I'd sleep forever, immediately," he told him.

Poe rolled over and rested on one elbow. "The thing that wakes me up is knowing I get to fly again, in actual clouds, so." He shrugged. “Go ahead and lie down. It does feel like a cloud.”

Finn gave Poe a long, considering look. He didn't appear to have any ulterior motives, his face as honest as it usually always was, so Finn somewhat reluctantly laid down. "You gave these to stormtroopers, I bet you could put the whole fleet in disarray," he suggested, "Because they'd be sleeping all the time. Even Hux would have to give it a rest and take a nap."

"Finn, you're full of the best ideas," Poe said. "The answer to this war is a shipment of mattresses!" He laughed, studying Finn closely. "You look really good, buddy. I'm glad to see you up and about, and healthy." But he quickly moved on. "Ready for chow?"

Finn would never not be ready for food, so at the mention of moving on to the mess hall, he bounced upright, at least as much as he could bounce, and nodded.  The bed put him at an awkward angle for getting up, though, and he held a hand up for Poe to grab his wrist and help him. "Or maybe that's why the First Order is all so... You know. Angry. Maybe they just need some sleep," he joked.

"Right?" Poe said, getting Finn to his feet holding one hand and putting the other on his waist, like they were dancing. He led Finn to the mess hall and this time took him through the line with him, introducing him to the cafeteria ladies as the savior of the Resistance, and they cooed over him and gave him double portions of everything he asked for. With Poe balancing their trays, he led Finn to his usual table, which was empty at this hour, and he helped Finn sit carefully.

"This is so much food," Finn said, not for the first time, looking at his own tray.  But he'd come a long way from just two—three?—however many weeks ago, and he knew that he liked some of these foods much more than the others, so he started with those. "How do they decide when to cook what?" he asked, noting that the frogs had made a reappearance, but that there were still some things he didn't really recognize.

"Depending on supplies, I think. And they rotate dishes, too. Frog Fridays and so on." Poe giggled as Finn tried to scoop noodles with his fork, and showed him the spoon twist trick. "You don't have to finish your plate if you're full. And, ah, you don't have to eat quite so fast. We're in no rush."

He hadn't realized he was rushing until Poe pointed it out, at which point he realized he really had been inhaling his food. That, too, was a novelty, not being in a rush to bolt his food and return to duty or training or sleep. He took a moment and drank some of the water that rested near his right hand. "What else do you eat at home? Besides the frogs, I mean. And the crickets," he said, remembering that at some point crickets had been mentioned.

"Oh, uh, we make a flat bread out of corn and fold meat and vegetables into it, like a sandwich, kind of. I'll cook for you when we go visit my dad sometime," Poe promised. "And lots of chocolate, spicy chocolate, sweet chocolate... Hm…empanadas...black beans..." He trailed off, remembering the chili his mother used to make and how he and his father tried, but could never get it quite right.

"There's spicy chocolate?" Finn asked, trying a bite of rice and some sort of fruit he had never tasted before. It was really more like dessert than anything else...but was anyone really going to stop him if he ate dessert with dinner, or _before_ dinner? Odds were not high. He ate another bite of the rice, and then a bite of vegetables.

"Well, we make it spicy," Poe said, leaning his head on his fist as he watched Finn eat. "We add chili. I like almost everything to be spicy. The pilots think it's funny to pick up hot sauces all over the galaxy and make me try them. So far I only didn't eat one, and that was because it just tasted awful. Do you have a favorite from the tray today?" he asked.

Finn pointed at the rice and then took another bite. "Definitely this. It's rice with fruit in it, right?" he asked. "And the vegetables. Especially the orange ones... carrots?" They were also sweet, although not so much as the rice. "The frogs still crunch weird, but I think I like them."

"Yeah, they're an acquired taste for sure. I like the rice stuff, too. Kind of a sticky rice, I think? Want me to get you some more?" Poe asked, worried that Finn might think he was fattening him up to eat him.

"I think if I eat more I'll probably fall asleep in the middle of it," Finn admitted. Walking had taken more energy than he'd realized, and they still had to walk all the way back to medical, and then to Poe's room. "But I don't mind sitting here for awhile," he added. It was nice, actually, sitting here and eating with Poe at a real table, with real chairs, with the smell of the different foods wafting around the tables and people coming and going. No pilots had come through, so it had been quiet by their table, so far.

"Okay, let me refill our drinks," Poe said, taking their cups back up to the front. Finn seemed to like the sweeter drinks, so he got that for his friend. As he returned, Jess and Snap had returned from patrol, and he nodded them at the table he sat at with Finn by the window. "Hey, Jess and Snap are back. I invited them to sit with us, but you let me know when you want to go to medical, okay?" He rubbed Finn's arm companionably.

Finn turned to see Jess and Snap headed over to their table and raised a hand when they both waved at him on the way to the food line.  "What do you think are the chances Jess brought chocolate?" he asked speculatively. He tasted his drink, and it was... sweet? He wasn't quite expecting it, and may have choked a little in surprise before recognizing it as fruit juice of some variety. "I thought it was water," he laughed, still coughing slightly.

"Since she just came in from patrol, unlikely...Oh, sorry, you had water?" Poe said, cursing himself for his lack of attention, and he stood up. "Let me get you some water."

"No I like this! It's sweet. I was just expecting water. Don't worry," he told Poe, reaching over and grabbing his hand to pull him back down to his seat. "Less worrying, more...whatever isn't worrying. Don't ask me, I haven't gotten that far yet. Hi Jess!" Finn said as the other pilot sat down.  Snap showed up a couple minutes later, but he already had dessert on his tray.  "Hey Snap.  Good patrol?" he asked.

"Boring, yeah, so good," Snap said, sitting next to Poe, while Jess sat next to Finn.

"Hey, I brought you something, Finn," she said, producing a small package from inside her jacket and passing it to him under the table. "Only condition is, you can't share it with Poe."

Poe looked wounded. "Wha—what? What did I ever do to you, huh?" he said, pretending to be more put-out than he was.

"Is this chocolate?" Finn asked excitedly, and Jess nodded.  He looked across the table at Poe, "See, you wouldn't like it anyway." Okay, he may have been taunting Poe just a little bit.

"Were you insulting Naboo chocolate again, Dameron?" Jess said, arching both eyebrows at Poe. 

Finn, realizing he was about to get Poe scolded, maybe, hastened to add, "It's—he just—he didn't say it was _bad_."  Jess turned to give him a considering look, and he did his best to look trustworthy, even though he was more just confused. How did people do this? How did they tell what other people actually meant when they didn't say what they meant half the time and meant something else half the time they did say something?

Poe laughed and waved a hand. "Of course I was making fun of it, Jess. That's more sugar and milk than chocolate! He can have it!"

"Poe likes his chocolate _dark_ , if you know what I'm saying," Snap said with a chuckle and a wink, and Poe kicked him viciously under the table, his smile now a bit forced.

Finn missed neither whatever movement that was that Poe made, nor the face that Snap made right after, and assumed that there was some reason Poe had just kicked his fellow pilot in the ankle, even if he couldn't identify it. Instead, after looking from one to the other for a moment (and noting that Jess was holding back laughter next to him) he decided this was one of those weird pilot things he was not in on and opened the chocolate, breaking a piece of it in half and handing part to Jess, since she'd given it to him in the first place. She waited for him to try it before eating her own bite, and grinned when he did. "It's good! They make that from the same stuff as the kind Poe gave me?" he asked. He remembered a sort of spicy-bitter aftertaste to the kind Poe had given him, but which was absent here. "I like them both," he told them.

"What a diplomat," Jess said, patting him on the shoulder. "So, when is Poe getting you up in the air?" she asked. "That is, if you want to fly. Or gunner."

"He said something about G-force training if I was going to go in the air again," Finn told her, "But the Falcon and that little TIE-fighter we flew didn't make me puke, so..." he shrugged. To be fair, they hadn't done anything terrifically exciting in terms of g-forces on either of those flights, except for escaping on the Falcon, and if anything exciting had happened on the way home, he'd missed it. "Anyway, I've never flown anything, so I would probably just make a mess and wreck all the practice planes," he added. It was too bad, really. X-Wings didn't have co-pilots, unless you counted the little droids, so if he went for gunner, they'd stick him on something else. "I was in a different track in training," he settled for—there wasn't really a need for them to know he'd been a glorified janitor at one point, or, conversely, that he'd been the top of his class in hand-to-hand and marksmanship. He wondered if anyone knew he'd been fighting Ren with Rey's lightsaber when he'd been injured. Something to ask Poe later, anyway.

Poe threw up his hands in exasperation: "Make a mess? Listen to this guy. He picks up the guns in a TIE without having ever seen them before, and he's the one who, I should point out, manage to successfully eject himself from the TIE as we were spiraling out of control onto Jakku. And to hear Rey tell it, he was even better aboard the _Falcon_ ," he corrected, aggressively defending his friend from himself. "And he was a good enough Stormtrooper to scare the shit out of me when we first met, and you know I—"

"Don't scare easy," Jess said, rolling her eyes, as they heard Poe utter this phrase often. “Yeah, we know.”

" _Anyway_ , Finn," Poe said. "I think you'd make a great pilot if you want to be. I'd be glad to teach you a few things and you tell me if you like it."

"Really?  I'd like that—I liked flying, I'm just afraid I'll crash things. But sure," he added, when it looked like Poe might start in again, "That would be great." While Poe, Jess, and Snap continued bantering, Finn took the opportunity to watch them, smiling without thinking when they laughed at some in-joke, even though he didn't understand why they were laughing.

That Poe was not easily frightened didn't surprise him—but he felt a little guilty that he'd seen the look on his face when he'd first gone to break him out. Sure, he'd recovered quickly, but Poe had, no doubt in Finn's mind, looked _terrified_ for that split second. Finn hadn't thought much of it, at the time or since, but it sounded like it wasn't something Poe would wish anyone to know, including him.

When he caught Poe glancing at him repeatedly, he realized he was frowning thoughtfully and did his best to make his face do something else.

"Okay, it looks like my charge is getting a little tired," Poe suggested, glancing at Finn for confirmation or protest. While he was worried for Finn, he also didn't want to press him into bed ( _not_ like that!) (okay maybe a little like that) if he wasn't tired.

"A little...I think it was the walking. I'm okay if you want to stay for a bit, though." Poe had been spending almost as much time in medical at as he had, after all, and he wasn't even injured, which must have required an extraordinary amount of patience. His back would be a little sore by the time they returned to medical and then Poe's quarters, but he was content to stay until he was asleep on his feet, if only figuratively and not literally.

"It's all right, we need to hit the ‘freshers," Jess said, and Poe smiled gratefully.

"I'm gonna hit the sack," Snap said.

Poe stood and picked up their trays, stacking them expertly and carrying them to the dropoff. The place was filling up anyway, and from here Finn looked decidedly slouchy and weary.

"Okay, ready to go?" Poe said, discreetly helping him to his feet and, though he hovered nearby, he didn't touch Finn until they were outside the mess hall. "You're doing so great, Finn," he encouraged. "Need me to help at all?"

Finn shook his head, determined at least to get back to the medical wing without assistance. "From the medbay to your room, probably, though," he admitted.

"Awesome, you're amazing, Finn," Poe said, with no exaggeration. Though Finn was swaying a little on his feet by the time they made it back to the room where he'd spent way too much time recently, when Dr. Kalonia arrived shortly after they got back, he was still standing.

"I see you've overdone it," she said, looking between Poe and Finn in a manner that seemed vaguely scolding. "I suppose you want out of here. Do you have somewhere to sleep?" she asked, and Finn nodded.

"Poe said I could sleep on a cot in his room."

"Just walking, and eating, I promise,” Poe protested. “Just need to check a cot out from supplies. Finn, you rest here, I'll get set up and be back for you, K?" Poe said, patting his shoulder.

While Poe went to set things up, Finn received a lecture about the difference between pushing himself enough to improve and so hard that he could cause himself injury, and promised he would try to avoid overdoing anything. He would be back regularly, both for PT and to check that his back was still healing properly, but he couldn't hide his relief when the doctor said she'd leave him to gather the few things he had while he waited for Poe to return.

Poe grabbed not just a cot (and he scanned them all to make sure he grabbed the best) but blankets, sheets, and two pillows, and a new pair of fatigues and something for Finn to sleep in: he knew he had toiletries from the hospital wing, but he also got him a bag for his things. Poor kid, he had _nothing_.

"Hey!" he beamed as he entered medical, with just the empty sack. "All set up in my quarters. Even looks like a real bed now. Last chance to back out!"

"No way, you're stuck with me now," Finn answered with a grin. "Help me get back without falling all over myself?" he asked. He didn't need much help, just a shoulder to grab if he lost his balance.

Dr. Kalonia, apparently not finished lecturing them, came back and pointed at both of them. "Behave. You," she said, pointing at Poe, "Don't let him overdo it and hurt himself, and you," her finger pointed at Finn, "Don't go around trying to see how much you can take before you fall over." Finn nodded obediently and picked up Poe's jacket from where it was thrown over the foot of his bed. He was already carrying a small bag of the toiletries he'd been given, and that was the sum total of what belonged to him in the world.

Poe gave the doctor a playful salute but a solemn nod. "Hey, look, Doc, I'm with you on this. I'll watch him. I think he won't give me any trouble."

Of course he didn't mean it like _that_ , but Dr. Kalonia raised an eyebrow at him anyway.

Poe put an arm loose around Finn's waist, to be there if he stumbled, which he didn't, but also to help guide him to the correct room. "Come on, buddy. A little bit further and we can rest. You want to get in the refresher? You can have first go if you want. Nicer than the wet wipes and bacta baths you get in medical. Or you can go right to bed. I could put on some holovids again, too. Or we can just talk." Poe realized that was probably quite a few suggestions, but he wanted Finn to feel like he had lots of choices, because he _did_ now. Once they were at the door: "Key code is 9982, if you need to get in and I'm not here, or I'll tell the service droids they can unlock it for you any time."

Finn wasn't used to having this many choices, but since a refresher sounded like the best of all alternatives, he picked that. "I have wanted to have a proper shower since the day after I woke up," he told Poe as they entered the room. " _That's_ the cot you were just saying would be less comfortable than medical?" he asked when he saw the bed. It was small, sure, but it was still bigger than what he was used to. There were real blankets, too, and a pillow that was soft and fluffy when he picked it up and squeezed it around the edges.

Poe smiled fondly at Finn, watching him explore his bed and now feeling less guilty about being so excited to fall into his own bed. Still, the guy deserved an actual bunk at least. Maybe he could offer to share his own bed until then? No, no, way too forward, and Finn wouldn't understand that it was a little bit weird. Or maybe he would think it was _too_ weird: Poe didn't know what stormtroopers taught their soldiers. "Okay, refresher," Poe said, helping him into the cramped washroom where his other plants lived. "This is how you turn it on," he demonstrated, "and you control the temperature like this. I like it kinda hot, so be careful."

Finn nodded and turned the refresher on once Poe had left the washroom. He fiddled with the water until it reached a comfortable temperature, and then carefully shed his clothes and stepped under the water.

They'd had refreshers, of course, large ones to be used after training. They'd even had reasonably warm water, but showers had not been intended to be enjoyed. They'd always been short, and certainly he'd never had the opportunity to get the water this hot. Finn stood there for a few minutes just enjoying the hot water before he remembered he'd wanted to get clean. Since he had no soap of his own, he borrowed Poe's, grinning when he recognized one of the scents he associated with his friend. When he was clean, he enjoyed the warm water for a little while longer and then reluctantly shut off the refresher and dried and dressed in some clothes Poe had left in the washroom earlier.

He wanted to collapse on the bed as soon as he saw it—his, although Poe's looked equally wonderful—but took a moment to go pat Poe on the shoulder in thanks.

Poe turned and grinned. "All ready for bed?" He asked. "I think I'll get in the ‘fresher next, but I'll keep the lights low." He turned down Finn's blankets and took his cane when he sat down. "Here's that story you were reading before, if you're not ready to sleep yet. Do you need water or anything? I'm going to take, like...a _long_  shower."

"No, I'm okay. Go enjoy your refresher," Finn said, waving Poe away toward the washroom. He could hear the running water as he read the datapad Poe had handed him. Soon, though, the noise of the water running started lulling him to sleep, and he dozed off still holding the datapad, which tipped back on his chest. He was asleep by the time Poe shut off the refresher, none the wiser to the sudden absence of the water's gentle noises.

Poe enjoyed the hell out of that refresher, and he all but fell asleep in there. He'd forgotten clean clothes, though, and staggered out in a towel to hunt down something to sleep in. Finn was asleep, and he would have been cute with the datapad against his chest except...he looked like he was dead, laid out on a bier, or in medical still. It made Poe irrationally angry: the First Order had controlled even how he _slept_ , and Poe wanted to crawl into that tiny cot with him and wreck his corpse-pose, tangle their limbs together and spoon around him, tell him it was okay to try out other positions, figure out how _he_ wanted to sleep. Poe didn't, of course. He picked up the datapad to put away and pulled the blankets up higher, and decided he would talk to him about it later. Or never. Finn had done so well today, and he didn't deserve Poe yelling at the First Order through him. He sighed and pulled on clean underwear before he tumbled into bed. "Aw, kriff. BB-8, will you get the lights?" He asked his companion, who complied with a cooing beep. "Thanks, buddy. Good night."


	2. Chapter 2

_Finn had a feeling he should know why his back hurt. He had a feeling, in fact, that he should remember a great many things he couldn't grasp at the moment, such as where he'd been before he found himself on a transport ship about to touch down on some runty little desert planet they called Jakku. But he couldn't remember why he was there, or how, or what time it was, or anything._

_The strange way in which he was then, suddenly, on the planet may have been an indication that he was dreaming. That was all well and good, but he couldn't remember where he was outside of the dream, which felt more familiar than it did concocted by a tired and training-weary mind._

_Someone shot at Ren, and a pilot—Poe! his friend, he knew it, and his heartbeat tripped unhappily—was dragged forward. He said something to Ren and was backhanded for it. Then, incongruously, Ren gestured for him, and Finn felt drawn forward against his own will, meeting Poe's level gaze with a terrified one of his own._

_There was something very wrong in this dream, but Finn was powerless to stop it and figure out how to awaken. He dully heard the command to shoot Poe, and refused. Poe tried to fight off the troopers holding him and got knocked around for his efforts, and when Finn pretended to cooperate just so he could get his blaster up and swing it around to point at Ren, he made it about halfway before he froze, shaking and horrified, with the blaster pointed at Poe's face._

_"It's okay, Finn," Poe told him, and Finn shook his head—or tried to._

_"He'll make me shoot you," he tried to explain, and Poe shook his head._

_"It's okay. Look at me. You're okay," he repeated, and Finn did look at him. Heaven help him, he looked at Poe and held his gaze even as he felt his finger depressing the trigger. He made a noise of distress and tried to fight the hold that Ren had on him. "Finn, stop, you'll hurt yourself. It's alright," Poe told him._

_"It's NOT!" Finn cried, and the blaster, pointed at Poe's heart, went off._

Poe was out as soon as his head hit the pillow, and he was so elated at Finn's progress today (and, okay, he was glad to be back in his bed) that he slept soundly and his dreams weren't even plagued by Kylo Fuckface Ren, which was a nice change. He dreamed he was flying: always a good thing, flying along the glassy lake on Takodana where he was reunited with Finn.

It was beautiful—until it wasn't, and he woke with a start to BB-8's urgent bleeping.

"Hey, what? BB-8, buddy, I just got to sleep, come on—" A glance at the clock told him that wasn't correct, he'd been asleep three hours already, but as soon as he blinked awake he knew the cause of the droid's distress.

"Finn?" Poe said, and sat up, stumbling out of the tangle of blankets he was already wrapped up in. Finn was clearly dreaming, tossing and turning, but it was so bad he was practically seizing. "Finn!" Poe was at his side, afraid to touch him for a split-second before he wrapped his arms around him to shake him, to hold him, to fix this. "Finn, hey buddy, it's just a dream, wake up."

"No, Poe. I can't—Poe, he'll make me shoot you!" he mumbled, low and sad, and his breath came in quick pants. It was worse than the actual panic attack from before.

"Finn, _wake up_ ," Poe said firmly, but that wasn't helping. "It's not your fault," he tried, reaching for the Finn in the dream. "I'm here for you, I'm right here." That seemed to get him to listen, and Poe continued: "I'm not gonna leave you, buddy, okay? You're dreaming. You saved me, remember? I need you to wake up for me."

_Finn heard Poe's voice nearby, but he'd just **shot him**. He'd shot Poe, and somehow Poe was still talking to him, and Kylo Ren was still holding him frozen. As soon as he let him go, Finn whirled, swinging a fist where he hoped it would break Ren's face, mask and all._

Blinding pain registered before Poe realized that Finn, eyes suddenly wild and rage-filled, had pulled back a fist and struck him right in the face, dazing him. For a moment, Poe was back in that interrogation chamber with Phasma and her lackeys, because, Maker, they _really_ trained their Stormtroopers how to throw a punch.

Now that things were serious, Poe grappled Finn, wrestling him down between the bed and his body. He was painfully aware of how close they were, and was disappointed their first time had to be like this, where Finn was basically senseless and fighting him. Poe had a sneaking suspicion that if Finn weren't weakened by his injury and coma, Poe would be getting his ass kicked, and he was glad for small favors.

"Finn! Damn it, Finn, it's Poe! It's a trick, a dream. I've got you, you're safe! Finn, snap out of it!" he demanded, arms and legs snaking around him to pin him. If he wouldn’t or couldn’t wake up, at least Poe didn't want to get punched in the face again.

Finn started fully awake as soon as his fist connected with something, already dreading what, or who, he'd just punched.  He was very effectively pinned to the bed, Poe on top of him and trying to prevent him from flailing about any further.  Finn focused on him, still tense and confused.  Then he realized Poe's nose was bleeding.  He'd punched his friend, the best pilot in the resistance, square in the face, doing who-knew-how-much damage.

In the First Order, the consequences would have been steep... Here, he had no idea.

"Poe?” he said, and stopped fighting. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to," he stammered. What was _happening_ with him? First panic attacks, now he was having nightmares and punching someone who just wanted to help him in the face! "Shit. SHIT," he groaned as his stomach turned and he felt as if he might be sick. "I'm sorry," he whispered, closing his eyes and trying to breathe calmly, as he had through that first panic attack.

"Whoa, hey, it's okay, Finn, it's okay," Poe said, gasping in relief as Finn seemed to snap out of it, and was going to go on just holding him and petting him until he felt something pour down his lip and—oh, no, was his nose bleeding? "Finn, listen, I need you to breathe for me," he said, sniffing, trying to reduce the bloodflow. He loosened his hold to cup one hand under his face, but still pressed against Finn and rubbed his shoulder. "It's fine, I get them all the time," he said to Finn's worried look: "Bad dream?"

"You're lying," Finn told him, able to hear it in his voice. What if he'd broken his nose?  The skin around his eye was already going puffy and dark, and his bloody nose wasn't even slowing down.  "I shot you," he said, looking for some sort of forgiveness in Poe's eyes, "He made me shoot you. I didn't want to, I didn't, but..." he trailed off, trying to shake the feeling of being held motionless. Where had his mind come up with that one?  "There was nothing I could do. I shot—" he stopped and took a few more breaths. "Your nose, I'm sorry. I thought you were him, and I wanted..." he shook his head—he’d wanted to kill him with his bare hands— "...I can go back to the medbay until I get my own bunk," he said miserably.

"Oh, kriff, Finn, I don't care about my nose!" Poe said, compassion and anguish in his voice. "Come here, can you sit up for me? Good, now, hang on. Don't--don't move, look, I'm all right. You didn't hurt me, and I'm just going to get cleaned—" BB-8, heavens bless them, held out a pack of tissues, and Poe pulled out a wad to press to his face. "Thanks, Bee," he said, turning back to Finn, whose eyes still looked haunted. "Look. It was a dream, okay? That bastard—" he could only assume Finn was talking about Kylo Ren— "is scary enough in real life. I _know_ what he can do, Finn. He made me--" he choked, suddenly: he had only revealed this information to one person and that was General Organa. "He made give up BB-8, my best buddy in the whole world. Don't think I'd blame you if he _did_ make you shoot me, is what I'm saying." He patted Finn's cheek. In the dim light he might have smeared blood on his face, but he couldn't tell. "But you _didn't_ shoot me. You saved me. I'm alive because of you and," he pulled the tissues away to grin. "I can take a bloody nose in exchange for that."

"But I punched you," Finn said. "You were just trying to help." He wrapped his arms around his middle and hunched over, still queasy. BB-8 bumped his feet gently and he winced, expecting to get zapped and surprised when the little droid whirred quietly at him and rested against his shin.  He had half hoped that the little droid would zap him, if only because it would certainly wake him up further. He wasn't going back to sleep tonight, not if he was going to have dreams like that.

"Hey, hey, come here," Poe said, sitting on the cot and pulling Finn into a one-armed hug, still holding the tissue to his nose. "Come here, bud, it's okay. It's okay, Finn. I'm okay. And you're okay." He held Finn close and stroked his back. "You gonna be sick?" he asked, recognizing the signs from before, and pulled back slightly.

"Yes," Finn quavered, and awkwardly pushed himself to his feet to stumble to the washroom. His stomach had completely emptied itself by the time he sat back on his heels, exhausted and shaking and his back practically screaming at him. He'd shot Poe, and even if it was in a dream, the dream had been so realistic that he couldn't shake the image.

Poe followed Finn into the washroom, catching him as he all but fell back on his ass and into his arms. "Easy," he said. "Feel any better? Usually makes me feel better," he tried to joke, reaching to flush the toilet and trying to juggle holding Finn, getting him a glass of water, and trying to staunch his bleeding nose. "Rinse, spit, and then drink," he instructed, helping Finn to lean back over the toilet while he stuffed tissues up his nose and wet a towel to clean them both up. By the time Finn sat back in his arms, looking quite pale, Poe cleaned the blood smears from Finn—all over his face and down to one shoulder—he  had to pull his shirt off—before wiping himself off. Poe was surprised at how much more blood had gotten on Finn than on himself. "There," he said to the young man all but lying in his lap, still panting and looking dazed. "Better?"

Finn blinked slowly, coming back to himself little by little. "'M cold," Finn answered, aware that his shirt, bloodied by Poe's nose, was gone. His mind, fuzzy from, well, _all of this_ , dimly registered everything else: Poe holding him upright, the glass of water in his hand, and various details of the washroom around them. "You should go back to sleep. I'll...read, or play sabacc with BB-8, or they can teach me to curse in droid or something," he said to Poe, although he made no effort to actually get up and move back to bed.

"Nah, it's okay, I've got you," Poe said, smiling encouragingly past the tissues in his nose. "Let's get you blanket, buddy. Come on, Finn, we’re gonna go sit in here." Poe heaved his friend to his feet, and led him back to the bedroom. "Oh, shit, I bled all over your bed. Here," he said, tugging a blanket up from his own bed and throwing it around Finn's shoulders. "We'll clean that up tomorrow. You can sleep in my bed with me tonight, if that's all right. There's plenty of room for us both." He sat Finn down on his bed and tilted his head back, slowing the flow of blood.

"Is it broken?" Finn asked, looking tiredly over at Poe. He pulled the blanket more closely around his shoulders. "I'm sorry," he repeated, "For...this mess," he said, waving around at the blood-stained sheets and the washroom and Poe's bed, which he now partially occupied. "What if I hit you again?" he asked?

"No, I think it's not broken," Poe said, checking it gently and tugging the tissues out. Luckily, it seemed to have stop bleeding, and though pain bloomed across his face and over one eye, he grinned: "If you hit me again, though, it might."

"I usually don't move when I sleep... If I stay over here, and you stay over there, I don't think I'll hit you. Or I can stay awake," Finn offered, taking up as little space as possible on the side of the bed he occupied by scooting over until he was on the very edge. "I'll probably stay awake anyway," he admitted.

"No, no, it's fine," Poe said, his smile warm and inviting. "You need sleep. We both do. We'll just take some time to talk and calm down, and go right back to sleep. No harm, no foul." Poe kicked under the covers and tossed them casually over Finn, who still shivered pathetically. "Hey, if you know I'm right here, you'll know Ren can't be making you shoot me, right? You can reach out and touch me whenever you need to check."

"Right," Finn admitted, although there was an unspoken comment that if he started dreaming again, he'd hardly have the chance to reach out for Poe just to remind himself that he was there. "We could watch holovids," he suggested.

"We could," Poe said, and though he was tired, he got the player set up, and rested it in between them, on its quietest and dimest setting. "Here, we'll watch this one, my favorite as a kid. It's just music, but with pictures and stories. No talking in it. It always helps me to relax, watching it again." BB-8 suddenly appeared at the door, to Poe's surprise, as he hadn't noticed his friend was gone—and they were dragging behind them an ice pack. "Oh, BB-8! Look at you, buddy, always looking after me." He blushed and took the offered ice, patting BB-8 on the head while he applied the ice to his face. "Watch the show," he ordered gently, when he saw Finn looking at him with remorse.

Finn hunched down a little on the bed until he was comfortable, at least, and within reach of Poe.  The music was nice, much prettier than anything he had ever heard, and the pictures were like music brought to life.  He tried very hard to stay awake, concerned he would dream again if he fell asleep, but Poe was humming absently with the music on the holovid, and it was making him even sleepier.

He shouldn't want or need to be in contact with another person just to sleep, but he was exhausted, and every time he started to fall asleep he jerked himself awake, wild-eyed from some horrible afterimage of the dream.

Eventually he was too tired to care—the next time he felt himself dozing off, he reached over and wrapped his fingers gently around Poe's wrist, heart thudding uncomfortably hard at the thought that Poe might notice and say something silly, as he seemed to do.

Poe gasped as Finn's hand curled around his wrist, a tingle going up his arm to his spine. He smiled, and was still at first, his gaze shifting from the holovid to Finn, and as Finn's eyelids drooped again he curled his hand in Finn's gentle hold, brushing his fingertips against Finn's arm. "Don't let go," he murmured, feeling sleep begin to lay hold of him as he shifted the ice pack on his face. He felt guilty for drifting off, but maybe what Finn needed right now was his total trust. He would always have that, of course, but maybe he needed Poe to prove it.

Finn was mostly asleep when Poe moved so he could touch his arm, and it woke him for a moment when he wondered briefly if he was in the way. But Poe was only shifting sleepily, and to Finn's astonishment, he fell asleep. Not sort of asleep, not the version of sleep from the medbay, always so ready to wake up at the slightest hint of something going on, but actually asleep. He really, truly did not seem the slightest bit worried that Finn would awaken and incoherently hit him in the face again. And the bed _was_ very comfortable, and the combination of music and Poe's even breaths as effective as any of the sedatives they'd given him when his back hurt too much to sleep.  Eventually, he decided if Poe was willing to risk another black eye, that was his choice to make, and the next time his eyelids fluttered shut of their own accord, he didn't startle himself awake.


End file.
